


Three Little Necromancers

by GoldenDaydreams



Series: Necromancy!AU [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: -60 is Rhys, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Amanda (Detroit: Become Human) Being an Asshole, Angst, Childhood, Connor and Rhys are Twins, Gen, Magic, Maximum Toast, RK900 is Noah, RKbros, RKbros are children, This will hurt, Urban Fantasy, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenDaydreams/pseuds/GoldenDaydreams
Summary: Kat has three little necromancers.By the end, she loses them too.
Relationships: OC/OC- parents
Series: Necromancy!AU [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1319477
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	Three Little Necromancers

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted in A Sprinkle of Magic/Necromancy AU side-stories, but with how many side-stories I have done, and continue to do, the tags were getting to be a mighty big mess, and contents of the stories vary to the point where individual one shots just made more sense.

Kat, never Katherine, had three children. They all came into the world so differently. 

Connor was first, a very punctual 0700 on the dot, he let out a cry- proving to everyone his lungs did work very well, he settled quickly for the nurses, the perfect picture of health. 

Rhys came next, twenty-three minutes after his twin, umbilical cord wrapped multiple times around his neck, lips blue- soundless- but his fists were clenched shaking in the air as if already furious with the world around him. His cry came late, but was a balm over her soul, she knew then that her tenacious little bundle would be fine. 

Two years later came Noah via an emergency c-section. At the time, she thought it was the drugs that made the shadows move, she hadn’t known, hadn’t yet understood. He cried. And cried. And cried. He screamed in the hospital. He screamed at home. He screamed, and screamed, and screamed. And then quieted- and the quiet was worse. She spent so many nights hovering over his bed, touching his chest to feel it move, to assure herself he was still alive, still breathing. 

He stopped crying entirely. Not when his diaper was soiled, not when he was hungry- she wondered if he were in pain, would he cry then? 

Mic, never Michael, was a good father. When he was present enough. They’d been high school sweethearts. She had ignored what he was, a witch, a necromancer, a _nines_. She hadn’t understood the slur, the meaning. Hadn’t understood then the madness that would follow such power. 

The shadows in the nursery swayed in such a way that it made her dizzy, she glanced over her shoulder at Mic. “Are you doing this?” 

He frowned. “No. At least, I don’t think so.” 

“Shouldn’t you be sure,” she snapped, she hadn’t slept in days, she didn’t understand magic, not really. A ‘plain-blood’ like her couldn’t. 

He glanced off to the side, eyes seeming to track something that wasn’t there. “I’ll check on the twins,” he said after a moment, turning, leaving her alone with the infant in the crib. 

Witches weren’t born with their magic, they grew into it. The twins were in their terrible twos, toddlers- blessedly without magic yet. Yet, Mic wasn’t around, and the shadows still swayed. Noah’s grey eyes resolutely staying straight ahead. 

—

Something woke Kat. Music? No, a conversation? She slipped out of bed with a yawn. The twins were three now, and would often sneak into each others bed, and chatter away. She grabbed her robe from the back of the door, and put it on. She paused outside the open door to the nursery; Noah was sleeping, the shadows were still. 

She paused outside the door of the twins, but didn’t hear anything inside. She pushed open the door anyway, Connor was in his bed, blankets pulled up to his chin, his stuffed puppy tucked under one arm. Rhys was belly down on his bed, blankets kicked off, one leg of his Batman pajamas bunched up around his knee. 

She slowly descended the stairs, her bare feet soundless on the tile as she made her way through the lower portion of the house, following the soft words. 

_Mic._

“You need to leave,” she heard him say. She paused outside of the living room, watching him pace. “No. No! Stop,” he hissed turning to face… no one, nothing- something, someone she couldn’t see. “I can’t, okay, I can’t help you!” Mic rubbed his face, hands dragging down. He looked so much older than his twenty-eight years. “Please, stop screaming,” his voice rose, and he was going to wake the children-

“Mic?” 

He jumped, turned to stare at her. He put on a false smile, dark shadows under his eyes. “Hey.” He grimaced, flinching slightly. “Go back to bed, I’ll join you in a minute.” 

She’d heard that before. “Come with me,” she reached out. She wanted to silence the ghosts that followed him, yet knew she couldn’t. 

He was struggling for some sense of composure, but she stepped into him, wrapped her arms around his neck like she could protect him from the darkness. The shadows pitched violently, swirled- she held steady. 

—

Noah toddled around the kitchen while Kat prepared a snack for the boys. He fell down onto his bottom every once in a while, but still didn’t cry. He babble while staring at things Kat couldn’t see. Raised his arms, and stared up into the void. “What does he see?” Kat asked Mic, who was chopping up little cubes of cheese. 

Mic very quickly glanced over his shoulder, and scratched at the stubble along his jaw. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” 

“I want to know,” she dumped a handful of crackers onto a plastic plate. “What is he looking at?” 

Mic, who had been avoiding looking in that area finally did look over, stared for a moment. “It’s a woman.” 

She raised a brow. “What aren’t you telling me?” 

“That she’s missing half her face,” Mic hissed. “It probably means that she’s not over the way she died if she’s wearing it like that.” 

“Can’t you do something?” she swatted his arm. “I don’t want Noah looking at something like that.” 

“I could try to put up sigils around the house, it’s unlikely to work well. They feed off the power of a coven- we aren’t meant to be solitary.” 

She turned on her heel, walked over to where Noah was making grabby hands into the air, and picked him up. “Come with Momma, now Noah.” She brought him to the counter, gave him one of the fish shaped crackers he happily chewed on. 

Mic reached out, brushed some of Noah’s dark hair off his forehead. “He takes after me.” 

Kat’s heart seized. It wasn’t said with pride. 

It was said with fear. 

—

The twins were a month from turning five when Connor’s power manifested. Rhys had stomped through Connor’s block town, and the magic had been called upon, wisps of charcoal coloured smoke around his fingertips. He’d been frightened, screamed. “Momma! Daddy!” He’d cried out. Kat had reached him first, stumbled to a stop. Despite being with Mic, she didn’t know the entirety of what he was capable of. 

Connor’s brown eyes that matched her own were full of fat tears that rolled down his chubby cheeks. “Momma,” he reached for her, darkness obscuring his hands, and she took a step back. 

Mic rushed past her, pulled Connor up into his arms, held him close. “It’s okay, Connor, you’re okay. It’s just your magic, it won’t hurt you.” 

A tug on her shirt demanded her attention, Rhys stared up at her. “Connor has magic, when do I get mine?”

The thought of the two of them- of all _three_ of them having magic. Connor still sobbed in his father’s arms, smoke obscuring the back of Mic’s shirt. She looked around until she spotted Noah, the boy sitting on the floor by himself- his toys in two piles. 

“Mom!” Rhys gave another pull of her shirt. “When?” 

She swallowed back tears. “I don’t know,” she said, while hoping for never. 

\--

Kat reached out, found the other side of the bed empty. Her eyes opened, fingers smoothing over the cold sheet. It had become the new normal. While Mic barely maintained what anyone would call ‘normal sleeping patterns,’ this was too much, even for him. He’d barely been awake all day, stumbling more than walking, dark circles under his eyes more prominent. She’d made him a coffee while he’d worked- it didn’t seem to help him in the least. At best, she thought he’d achieved maybe eight hours of sleep in the entire week combined. 

She’d damn well make him sleep if she had to lay on him to keep him in bed. As usual, she checked Noah’s room first, he was sleeping. Then the twins’s room, startled by the shadow near the window, heart pounding before she realized it was Mic. 

“Mic?” 

He didn’t answer. 

“Michael,” she hissed, trying to be loud enough for him to hear, and quiet enough that she didn’t wake the boys. 

He still didn’t respond.

She tip-toed across the room, avoiding the toys illuminated by the night-light. She reached out, grabbed his arm, and he violently pulled away from her, his foot landed on a toy truck that lit up and made loud siren noises, it rolled under his foot and he fell backward, his arm reaching for something to keep himself upright, and grabbed the toy rack, pulling down bins of large blocks, assorted action figures, and rocks the boys had taken to collecting. Rhys screamed. Connor let out a cry. 

Mic struggled to fit himself further into the corner, looking around wildly. “Mic, it’s okay, it’s just me. Just me and the boys.” 

“I don’t want to leave them, Kat. I don’t want to leave them.” 

His fear chilled her down to the bone. 

“Leave who?” 

Mic swallowed hard, shook his head, took a deep breath. 

Connor walked around her, held his stuffed dog out to Mic. “Here, Daddy. Sleep with Puppy. He’ll keep the bad dreams away.” 

Mic managed to shift onto his knees, tugged Connor into a hug, then Rhys too, held the boys tight. Together, they tucked the twins back in, waited until they were settled before checking on Noah. The shadows were moving in his room, swirling, clawing. He was sitting upright in his little race car bed. 

“Hey, it’s sleepy time, little man,” Mic told him, ruffling his hair. 

Noah grabbed his stuffed octopus, gave it a tight squeeze, then laid down in bed. 

Mic kissed his temple. “Sweet dreams.” 

“Bye-bye, Daddy.” 

Kat pulled the blankets up a little. “That’s not what we say, Noah. It’s good night.” 

Noah looked from Kat, to Mic, seemed to size him up. “You’re smart Momma. It’s good night.” 

She waited until the boy started to nod off before grabbing Mic’s hand, and tugging him along. “Come on, you need some sleep.” 

“You’re doing the grocery shopping tomorrow, right?” he asked. He’d been out less and less during their relationship. He had a job he could do from home. His magic too unpredictable, better to stay in a controlled environment. 

“Yes, after work.” 

“Buy sleeping pills,” he flopped face down onto the bed. “I’m going to lose my job if I keep messing up at work.” He lifted his head from the pillow, leaned over to kiss her when she laid down. “I love you, Kit-Kat.” 

“Love you too.” She curled into him, wrapped her leg around his, wrapped her arms around his bicep. He wouldn’t be leaving the bed again without her knowing about it. 

—

On the eve of Noah’s third birthday, Kat and Mic stayed up late blowing up multi-coloured balloons. Mic tied off a bright red one. “I reached out to a couple of covens.” 

Her grip on a yellow balloon grew lax, the air escaped as it flew across the room, and dropped onto the floor. “I thought because of your power rank or whatever that no one could- take you in or-.” She shook her head, she didn’t quite understand why he wasn’t permitted in a coven.

“There are very few covens who would risk it,” he admitted. “It’s not for me. It’s for the boys.” 

Kat picked up a another yellow balloon from the bag. She took a deep breath, then blew into it. “What for? To teach them magic? You can do that.” She blew into the balloon again, pinching it before taking another deep breath, and blowing again. She tied it off and tossed it toward the overflowing laundry basket. 

“Connor’s a natural, good control. He’d make a good apprentice. Rhys is low leveled, he wouldn’t cause any problems. And Noah-” He grabbed another red balloon, stretching it a little. “Noah’s like me. He’d be better off with a coven-” 

“But you’re not-”

“It’s different,” Mic said. 

“How?” 

He sighed. “My mother was a necromancer, she died shortly after I turned eighteen. I wasn’t a minor anymore, and no coven in their right mind would take me on.” 

“There is nothing wrong with you,” Kat said. 

His smile, so soft. “Darling, the boys need a coven.” 

“Your mother taught you, right? Why can’t you teach them?” 

He twisted the red balloon, pulled it till it was a thin line. “My mother’s concept of parenting and education leaves much to be desired,” he replied softly. “And what good did it do in the end? I don’t, and can’t own my power. Noah needs someone who can suppress it, he’s small now, not much of a beacon, but the older he gets, the more he grows into that power, the dead will flock to him, his power will swell and it will consume him.” 

She grabbed another balloon. _Red_. “We can discuss it later,” she said, desiring nothing more than to shelf the conversation forever. 

“I have a folder, it’s on top of the dresser,” he said. 

They never talked about it again. 

—

Kat was so used to waking up to find Mic out of bed, that it was a surprise to wake up to him next to her. The sleeping pills had to be working at least a little, he had been resting more, the dark circles under his eyes fading away. It was still dark out, but she’d made a resolution to wake up early and exercise- a terrible idea really- she thought as she dragged herself to sit upright. She didn’t want to wake Mic, God knew he needed the rest, but she turned on the little salt lamp to cast just enough of a glow over the room so she could find her slippers. 

She looked over her shoulder to find Mic’s eyes open. He stared up, wide-eyed in a way that reminded her of Noah in his first month’s of life. Terrified, stock-still. 

“Mic?” 

She reached out, touched his shoulder, his skin cold as ice. His eyes shifted to her, then back to the ceiling. The shadows were shifting, swirling, reaching, and clawing. The hard points of clawed shadows left her skin burning, and she screamed, jerking back. She’d touched magic before, and it had never once hurt her. 

“Momma?” one of the twins on the other side of the door. 

Mic cast a frantic glance in that direction, then to her, pleading.

“Don’t come in!” she shouted. 

“Momma?” 

“Stay out there!” she shouted again. She ran over to the switch and turned on the overhead light. It flooded the room for a moment, but ultimately the darkness crawled back, reclaiming space, creeping along the floor. But she could see Mic better, the welts of burns around his neck. 

The door opened behind her and she whirled around. Connor darted past her before she could grab him. He rushed over to his father’s side of the bed, and reached up to grab something- and in that moment Kat could see it, Connor’s magic rushed over the form, something grotesque, inhuman, sitting over Mic, claws clasped over his neck. “Go away!” Connor shouted, determined even at such a young age. 

She had been told before that magic was ninety percent willpower. 

The figure dissipated to smoke, the shadows slowly stilled, and Mic suddenly gasped, sitting upright, coughing as he tentatively touched his neck. 

Connor reached up for him. “Daddy!” 

Mic’s voice came out hoarse as he whispered Connor’s name, picked him up and held him close. 

“What the-” her mouth was dry, fingers shook. “What was that?” 

Mic shook his head, then tipped his head in the direction of the door. 

Rhys stood there, wide-eyed. She walked over and crouched down in front of him. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” 

“I don’t like this magic,” he said. “It’s bad.” 

She cupped his face in her hands. “It’s going to be okay.” 

And with the belief only a child can have in the word of their mother, he nodded, fell into her open arms, and held tight. 

—

It was a good day, one of the rare ones where Mic wasn’t heavy with the weight of his seemingly permanent exhaustion, a day where he actually stepped out of the house- not far, just into the sprawling backyard they’d purchased the house for. The boys were running free, kicking a ball around. Noah did his best to keep up with his big brothers. Mic raced up behind Noah, picking him up running him in front of the twins, and setting him down in front of the ball so he could kick it. Noah shrieked with delight, and took off after the ball once more. 

This was all Kat had ever wanted. Her family enjoying the warm fall day, leaves in pretty colours, the love of her life running around with their three children, everyone laughing, playing together. Rhys tripped, and fell down, quick to get back up. She’d have a hell of a time getting the grass stains out of their clothes, but it was all worth it. 

They all started coming back to the porch, where she sat on the step. “Water break?” she asked, already having their labeled water bottles lined up. 

“Yep!” Rhys grabbed his water bottle. “Did you see the big kick, Momma?” 

“I did, very impressive.” 

“I kick too!” Noah declared, kicking the air. 

“You did a very good job,” she reached out, and smoothed down his hair a bit, pinching out a piece of grass.

“Thank you ver-b-y much,” Noah replied, then sipped on the straw in his bottle. 

Connor stopped short of joining them. 

“Here,” she grabbed his bottle, held it out. “You need to get rehydrated, Champ.” 

He looked at her, the water, then turned. 

A breeze game through, rattling the dry leaves in the trees, some of them coming down in swirls. Darkness seeped into the ground, the trees, shadows shifting wildly on a scale Kat had never seen. A room, sure, even a portion of the house, but never such a vast open space. It was otherworldly.

“Bad magic,” Rhys said, grabbing Noah around the shoulders and pulling him protectively to him. 

Mic shifted in his stance, stumbled like he was drunk, the shadows pitched with him, and _things_ emerged from those shadows, clawing their way out of the earth, shifting unnaturally. 

“Go away!” Connor shouted, magic swirling around his clenched fists. “GO AWAY!” Little swirls of magic around his feet, smoke slithering along the grass, pushing, and pausing, pushing and pausing. 

She stepped in front of Rhys and Noah. “Take your brother in the house.” She glanced over at them, saw the way they remained holding onto one another. “Now, Rhys!” 

Rhys pulled his brother along, reached up for the knob of the back door, and pushed it open. She watched them go safely inside. She wasn’t sure what to do about Connor- her little boy had been able to make whatever that thing had been go away before, but she wasn’t sure this was safe, wasn’t sure he could do it again. 

She knew how dangerous magic could be. Her arm was still scarred in the same way Mic’s neck was. 

Connor pitched forward, and she caught him before he could fall face first into the grass. She pulled him close to her chest. Mic stumbled over, fell to his knees, but his eyes were flat. Head cocked to the side, assessing her. 

When he reached for her, she swatted his hand away, and kicked her body back slightly. “Leave him alone!” 

Mic smiled. 

It wasn’t him. 

It wasn’t. 

His eyes rolled back, and he fell to the side. The shadows and figures disappeared. The birds started chirping again. In the distance, she could hear Noah crying inside. 

—

“Don’t you dare fucking tell me it was nothing, Michael.” 

“Michael,” he repeated, a bag of peas against his forehead. “I’m in real trouble now, aren’t I?” 

“Don’t joke,” she hissed. “Not now. Those- those- those… _things_ what-”

“I don’t know. Angry old spirits? Demons? It’s not like my mother taught me about this shit. She was already…” he gestured to himself, “like this.” 

She stopped pacing the living room and sat down by his hip. “It wasn’t always this bad.” 

“No. The older you are, the more you go out, the… louder the beacon, I guess. It’s what we are to the dead. Beacons. Bits of light. They sense we can see, that we can hear. Rhys can’t see, he’s not very strong with his magic. Connor can if he concentrates. Noah, like me, he can’t turn it off, it’s the excess power that we can’t control- other things can, and they can overpower us.” 

“They… they could do that to Noah?” 

“Not yet. Too little. More power than his body can take, but not enough to entice spirits.” 

She put her head in her hands. 

“Momma!” A cry from upstairs. 

“Kat,” Mic’s hand on her knee before she could rise. “I will keep those boys safe.” His fingers gently grazed over the burn scars on her arm. “No more of this.” 

Her brow pinched in confusion, she intended to say something more, but Noah’s cries were growing more frantic. 

“It’s okay, go,” he said, grabbing her hand, and kissing her knuckle. 

“Momma!” 

Noah was red-faced, full on sobbing when she got there. Noah, who looked at the woman with half a face and never cried. “Baby,” she cooed, sitting down at the side of his bed, pulling him into her arms. “It’s okay. Did you have a bad dream.” 

“Daddy goes bye-bye.” 

“No, honey, Daddy is downstairs.” 

“Daddy goes bye-bye.” 

A chill hit her, and she put him back down on the bed, and rushed out of the room. The peas were on the kitchen counter, the living room was empty. “Mic!” she shouted. He didn’t answer. She called out his name again, and again, frantically dashing from room to room. She opened the front door, ran out barefoot. 

Their car was gone.

—

She couldn’t just leave the children, and they only had the one vehicle. She told herself that he’d be back. She wrung her hands, making empty promises to her three children as she tucked them back into bed, and stress cleaned the entirety of the kitchen. 

A couple of police officers arrived at her door after midnight, and she knew then what Noah had known hours ago. 

Mic was dead. 

Suicide. 

Jumped from a bridge. 

We’re so sorry for your loss. 

Her wailing woke the boys, who she held in her arms. How was she to tell them that their father was dead? 

“Daddy went bye-bye,” Noah said, lower lip trembling. 

Her three boys were necromancers- she didn’t have to tell them anything. 

—

Kat’s sister, Trish, flew in from Texas to help her out. Trish had never liked witches, hadn’t stuck around after graduating, and had never come over during Kat’s entire relationship with Mic. Kat had been desperate making the call. She didn’t have much in the way of friends. The boys, and Mic’s self-imposed quarantine kept her at home most days. She had work colleagues, acquaintances, but no one she could count on in a moment like this. 

The boys were asleep, and Trish was half a bottle of wine deep just from dealing with the shifting shadows. Kat wasn’t far behind. The funeral had been emotionally taxing. Almost no one had known Mic- a few of the people from his work attended, people she’d never met giving her standard condolences. 

Kat sniffled a bit, her eyes physically hurt from crying so much. 

“You should get some sleep,” Trish advised. 

She didn’t want to go back to an empty bed, cold sheets, and the loneliness of knowing Mic was gone. “He… he said he was going to keep the boys safe,” she said, biting on the inside of her cheek. Tears spilled over anyway. “I didn’t know he would do something like this.” 

“I know,” Trish put an arm over her shoulders. “It’s going to be okay.” 

More bullshit, like the condolences handed out. Kat stood, kept the glass of wine in hand, and grabbed the unopened bottle. It wasn’t going to be okay, but she could at numb it for a little while. Out of habit, she checked into the twins room. Rhys sleeping on his stomach, blankets kicked down as per usual. 

Connor was missing from his bed. It wasn’t entirely unusual for him to get up to use the bathroom, or on more rare occasion to go into Noah’s room, or even her own if he had a bad dream. It wasn’t cause for immediate concern, but after Mic, she felt the cold slide of dread down her spine. 

She looked into Noah’s room, he was cuddled up with his stuffed octopus, shadows caused by his night-light were still. 

The bathroom door was open, the room empty. 

Shadows escaped from under the closed door to her bedroom. 

She half expected Mic to be on the other side, the past few days just some fucked up joke. Instead, the shadows swayed softly, and Connor sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed. “Hi, Momma.” 

Her breath stuttered out of her, and she set down the bottle and the glass on the dresser between a cluster of candles, and a folder she’d never opened. “Hi, baby.” She took a deep breath and turned to him. “You should be in bed.” 

“Daddy woke me up.” 

“What?” the word little more than a breath. 

“He wanted to talk to you.” 

A sob escaped her lips before she could smother it with her hands. 

“It’s okay, Momma,” Connor said. “I can do it.” 

She didn’t have time to ask him what he meant, not before he was reaching out, grabbing onto the nothing- his magic rippled lightly over a form she could barely make out, but knew exactly who it was. Mic. 

“Hey, Kit-Kat,” he said, voice soft and echoing in the space. 

She put her hands down on the foot board of their sleigh bed, her knees threatening to buckle. She could do little more than focus on breathing. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry?” The word ripped out of her lungs. “You left me! You left the boys!” She hadn’t even understood how angry she was until she had someone to actually throw her anger at. “How could you! How could you do that to us?” 

“I had to, to protect them. I couldn’t… I was losing control. I could have hurt you. I could have hurt _them_. I couldn’t risk that.” Mic replied. “Kat, you and the boys were the best things that ever happened to me. You made me so happy.” He reached for her, unable to get closer, tethered to Connor. “You were my whole world.” 

“Then- then why did you go?” 

“I told you-”

“To keep them safe? You can’t protect them while you’re dead!” Her voice broke, and tears ran hot down her cheeks. “You’re not here! They need you!” She swiped at the tears angrily. “I need you.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“How- how am I supposed to… I can’t teach them magic-” 

“They need a coven,” Mic said, he pointed at the folder on the dresser. 

“They need their dad,” she sniffled, struggling to make her point without sobbing. 

“I-I have to go,” Mic said. “Connor can’t keep this up.” 

She reached out, but his form was insubstantial. “No. Don’t go, I can’t, I can’t do this without you!” Connor swayed slightly, and the magic faded as he fell back. She sat down on the bed, pulled Connor into her arms, desperately needing something to hold onto. “Connor, baby?” 

He wiggled his nose and lips a little, snuggled up to her, but remained asleep. She sat there, holding her son, staring into the space her husband had once stood in. 

—

Amanda Stern- Necromancer- Level 7.   
Head of Stern Coven. 

Her credentials were all printed out in that folder that had collected dust on Kat’s dresser before Mic had died. It took a full week, and a variety of… problems- before she called. 

Amanda had insisted that Kat bring the boys along with her- even for their first meeting. The gate to the driveway was already open, and she drove up to where there was a regal woman standing in a white suit, a red rose pinned to the lapel of her jacket. 

Kat stepped out of her car. She walked around to the back, helped Noah out of his seat while the twins scrambled out on their own on the other side. She walked around to the front of the car, motioned the twins over. 

“Katherine, wonderful that you could join me. I’m Amanda, we spoke on the phone.” She then assessed the three children. “Necromancers, all three.” 

She picked Noah up, held him to her chest. “Yes, they are.” 

“And you? A plain-blood.” 

She frowned. “Yes.” 

“Interesting.” Amanda crouched down in front of the twins. She held out her hands, one to each, magic like fog moving around her hands. “Let’s see yours.” 

Connor held out his hands, displayed the blackened smoke with a little grin, moving his hand over Amanda’s and giggling. “Tickles.” 

Kat watched as Rhys’s magic covered his fingertips, and barely down to his first knuckle. He backed away from Amanda’s touch, and looked up at Kat. 

“It’s okay,” she said, unsure, but not wanting him to be afraid. 

Amanda stood once more, and showcased her magic to Noah. He didn’t call forth anything but seemed to think she wanted a high-five and that was what he delivered. She grabbed his hand though, light in her grip, her magic swirling around their hands. He tilted his head slightly, and then the darkness consumed them both, and it crept up from his fingers, around his wrist, and nearly up to his elbow before she pulled back. And then the fog took over, creeping over his skin, pushing the magic back in. Noah stared, his jaw slack. 

“As Michael said,” Amanda murmured. She then pointed over to a couple of chairs. “Let the children play, we need to talk.” 

Kat let out a shaky breath. She crouched to set Noah down, and kissed the tip of his nose. “Go play with your brothers.” She then turned to the twins. “Be careful-”

“We know,” Connor said. 

“He’s little,” Rhys finished with a dramatic roll of his eyes. 

“You have to take care of each other,” she said, ruffling the hair of the twins when she stood. “Go on, go play.” 

By the time she rejoined Amanda, the boys were racing to the birch tree. 

“Connor has impressive power and control,” Amanda said. 

Kat sat in the seat, but couldn’t settle. “He’s a good kid. Always taking care of his brothers.” 

“Noah must be… problematic for you. Especially after Michael’s death.” 

She closed her eyes for a second, trying to keep her emotions under control. It had only been a few weeks since his death, and it was still remarkably fresh in her mind. “He… he’s the sweetest.” 

“But his power, you can’t contain it,” Amanda said, sounding soft, motherly. “Michael couldn’t.” 

“It’s mostly just shadows.” 

“But not always. Is it?” She said it like she already knew- she probably did. 

Kat frowned. “Sometimes it’s… more substantial.” It had never hurt her, but she never thought there would come a time when Mic’s magic would hurt her either, and she still had the scar on her arm. “Sometimes he knocks things over with it. It’s been a recent thing.” 

“He’s getting older, growing into it,” Amanda said. 

“The- uh, the past few nights he hasn’t been sleeping very well,” Kat said. She watched as the boys ran around the tree a few times, and then Noah got distracted by the coloured leaves falling from the trees when a strong breeze came through. They boys tried catching them before they could hit the ground. “He says there are people watching him sleep.” 

“Michael’s uncontrolled power created a beacon, to the dead… to other unsavory things that lurk in the aether. His death will ensure that there shouldn’t be new spirits flocking to your sons.” 

“God,” she muttered, putting her head in her hands. “How do I help him?” 

“You leave him to me, all three of them. They require round the clock care you simply cannot provide.” 

Her breath froze in her chest. Slowly, she lowered her hands. “Excuse me?” 

“They need a coven.” 

“They need their mother. I was bringing them here for tutoring or something! Not…” she shook her head. “They’re my children,” she stood, furious, teeth grinding. “And we’re leaving.” There were others, two women over by her boys. “Boys! Come on!” she shouted. “Time to go.” 

“They will be staying here,” Amanda said, standing. “Don’t make a scene, you’ll only cause them undue stress.” She looked over her shoulder, beckoned someone from the doorway of the house to join them. An older man in a finely tailored suit, there were two men flanking him. 

“Mom?” Rhys called out, confused, and Connor grabbed his hand. 

“This is Mr. Carmine,” Amanda said as he joined them. “He is currently Head of the Witches Council.” 

“My most sincere condolences for your recent loss, Ms. Arkay.” 

They’d never married, she swallowed the burn of a name that wasn’t hers. “I’m taking my boys, and I’m leaving.” 

“You can’t,” Mr. Carmine said, his face a little ruddy. “I’m so sorry, but the boys are classified as a danger. They have no witch in their life to guide them- and your little one, power to the ninth degree.” He clucked his tongue. “Too dangerous without someone to keep him in check.” 

Her stomach rolled, skin tingled. “You can’t take my children.” 

Amanda’s smile was cold. “Yes. We can. They are witches. They belong to the house now.” 

“You’re not taking my children!” Kat snapped, storming off only to have one of the men grab her arm. “Let go!” 

“Momma!” Connor shouted, and suddenly the shadows pitched to the left. 

She wrenched her hand out of one of their hands only to be grabbed from behind by the other. She screamed, lifting her legs trying to use her weight to knock him off balance, but he remained unfazed. 

“You will now be removed from the premise, Ms. Arkay,” Mr. Carmine said. “You need not worry. They will be raised by the house mother now.” 

When trying to get her arms free failed, she tried to bite the man. The two men dragged her along, kicking and screaming. “You can get into your car, or we can have it towed,” the one man said. “Choice is yours.” 

“Fuck you!” she shouted, wrenching her arm so hard she nearly dislocated it. 

“Momma!” one of the boys screamed- Rhys, she knew her boys, it was Rhys. She looked over and found him being held by one of the women, even though he was fighting to get out of her grip, his magic dark around his hands. 

Noah screamed the darkness spreading out over the grass, but Amanda had gotten to him, gripped his shoulder and the magic faded, dead spots of grass left in his wake as he slumped in her grip. 

“What did she do?” Kat’s fight bled out of her, watching in horror as her little boy was picked up by another woman. “What did she do to my son!” 

“He’s not your son anymore,” the man replied dropping her outside of the gate, blocking her with his body to keep her from re-entering. “I advise you not to trespass on Coven property. It’s outside of your laws.” 

“You can’t just take my sons.” 

“They aren’t yours,” he said, calmly. “Not anymore.” He frowned at her. “Don’t cry, it’s for the best.” 

Past him she could see Amanda carrying Noah’s limp form toward the house. Connor was being guided along by a hand on his shoulder, he was staring at his hands, shaking them- the shadows absent. Rhys though, Rhys was still staring at her, dragging his feet every step as one of the other women dragged him along. 

Her legs gave out as her boys disappeared into the house. 

She’d lost Mic. 

She’d lost her boys. 

“Your car will be back at your residence by the end of the day,” the man said, stepping back to the other side, and locking the gate. 

—

As it turned out, they weren’t lying. 

Kat sat beside the detective, head in her hands. “What you’re telling me is, is that my sons, _my sons_ can be claimed by a coven because their witch-blooded parent is dead.” 

The detective nodded. “Afraid so, Ma’am.” 

“What- what about visitation?” 

He shook his head. “We can’t enforce it. We can’t even ask for it. If it’s offered, but I’ve never heard of a case where it was.” 

“I’m their mother.” 

“I’m sorry, there is nothing I can do.” 

“Nothing. Nothing you can do-” She shook her head, grabbed her coat, and walked out of the precinct without another word. 

—

The house was entirely too quiet. 

Full of ghosts she couldn’t see. 

Three little rain boots in a line. 

Noah’s stuffed octopus on his pillow. 

Rhys’s stick figured drawing on the fridge. 

Connor’s building blocks standing in a little village.

Family pictures on the wall. 

Trish left a bottle of wine. 

Now seemed as good of a time as any. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm now on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/DaydreamsGolden) and as per usual, I'm hanging out over at on [ Detroit: New ERA ](https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm)


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